


Lights Up

by Esselle



Series: Breakdancing and Ballet [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, B-Boy Hinata, Ballet Dancer Kageyama, Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/pseuds/Esselle
Summary: 'The conservatory’s Graduate Recital, held at the end of every year, is a showcase of all the students, placing a particular focus on the dancers in each year's graduating class. Kageyama and Hinata are each giving several performances apiece.Neither of them has seen the other's solo performance.'--One last high school curtain call.





	

"Are you nervous, Kageyama? About London?"

"Why would I be? They asked _me_ to come."

"Yeah, but maybe they'll send you back once they realize you slept through most of your English classes."

Kageyama slams his water bottle into the side of Hinata's thigh, and Hinata screeches and crumbles, rolling across the wooden floor, generally making a scene until the instructor finally snaps and shouts at both of them.

"We have three weeks until the recital!" she rants, and Hinata looks properly chastised, even though a grin keeps trying to fight its way onto his face at the way the underclassmen are all laughing raucously. He pulls his knees up and hides behind them as he gets the scolding of his life (which happens at least twice a week). "Maybe the two of you have already mentally checked out—no surprises there—but at least try and set an example for the younger ones!"

"I haven't checked out," Kageyama offers, and she rounds on him.

"You _have_ slept through almost all your English classes," she tirades, and Kageyama winces as Hinata joins in the laughter. "You should take the Royal Academy more seriously, Tobio-kun!"

"I—I am!" he splutters. "I don't have to talk while I'm dancing!"

"Fortunately," Hinata snickers, and their ensuing fight is only broken up when she threatens to kick them out of class. Again.

"Ughhh," Hinata says some time later, after they've left the conservatory and are walking home, Hinata towing his bike along beside them. "I wish everyone would just… lighten up!"

"Since when have you ever wanted anyone to lighten up about dancing?" Kageyama asks, amused.

"Not about that," Hinata says. "I don't know, it's like… we're almost done! We should be able to have some fun every once in awhile." He shrugs. "Like, soon we'll be gone. I don't want to spend my last few weeks here being all serious about the recital, that's lame. It's supposed to be fun."

Hinata always thinks everything is supposed to be fun, when what it really is is fun _and_ hard work, and Kageyama almost reminds him of this before he stops himself. He knows Hinata works just as hard as the rest of them. And he has his own reasons, for agreeing with what Hinata is saying.

"Wanna practice more at my house?" he asks, instead. Hinata's eyes light up.

"Yes!" he shouts, and then takes off, nearly eating pavement when he catches an ankle on his bike pedal. "Race you!"

"You little shit!" Kageyama bellows, chasing after him.

The conservatory’s Graduate Recital, held at the end of every year, is basically a showcase of all the students, though it places a particular focus on the dancers in that year's graduating class. Kageyama and Hinata are each giving several performances apiece: Kageyama will be in a partial scene from _Don Quixote_ , dancing as the lead, while Hinata and several of the other contemporary students are putting on a mock dance battle. Then they have one showcase piece they've choreographed together, and both are performing a solo dance.

Neither of them has seen the other's solo performance, but each insists theirs will be the favorite of the night.

At least, that's what Kageyama says blusteringly every time Hinata brings it up, and Hinata falls for the bait every time, stomping around with his nose in the air, insisting Kageyama is going to regret his words wholeheartedly.

And this is yet another thing Kageyama agrees with for his own reasons, although he would never, ever admit that out loud to Hinata.

Kageyama doesn't _want_ to see Hinata's solo performance, because he knows if he does—if he'd watched Hinata practice all these past months, come up with the choreography himself, those eyes alight and tongue poking out in concentration—he knows that he will regret accepting the offer from the RAD even more than he already does, will wonder about his instant decision to go to London, will inconceivably question pursuing his dream because he's leaving the one he already has behind.

He loves Hinata more than anything else in the world, maybe more than ballet and the stage and dance altogether, and Hinata has no idea about any of it. Hinata just wants to have fun, it's all he's ever wanted. And if he has the most fun with Kageyama, well, Kageyama isn't going to say a word in protest.

Hinata is going to have fun, after they graduate. He's already gotten offers to join multiple wildly successful dance crews. Whichever one he chooses, there will be touring and stage shows and live TV performances. He'll make good money as a choreographer, too, Kageyama can bet. He'll have so much fun, he'll forget why dancing with Kageyama was ever fun in the first place.

He'll be really happy, Kageyama knows, just like he knows they'll still be friends, will see each other when Kageyama is on break from university, and when he finishes his four years abroad, they'll still dance with each other. But it's unlikely it will ever be the same, after the way the conservatory had thrown them together and given them no choice but to work it out between them, and then to rely on one another, and then to be perfectly in sync. Always.

 _Fuck,_ Kageyama thinks, lying flat on his back on the floor of his practice room, long after Hinata has gone home, and he's continued on, dancing his solo piece until his feet are nearly numb.

Shouldn't it be enough, for him to want Hinata to be happy? Maybe he's too selfish for that.

The night of the recital finally arrives, and nerves are running so high Kageyama isn't even sure what he's nervous about anymore. He could dance any of his pieces without music, blindfolded. But will they be good enough? Will Hinata remember them for four years, and longer, remember them and be proud that they danced together at all?

 _Don Quixote_ goes very well. The crowd is wonderfully appreciative, but when Hinata catches Kageyama backstage, he seems a little temperate.

"They'll love you no matter what you do," he says, and for a moment, Kageyama isn't sure who he means. The audience beyond the curtain? London? The world at large?

"Jealous?" he asks, and throws in a smirk for good measure.

"I've seen you dance that better in rehearsals," Hinata tosses back, and it stuns Kageyama. But he knows, he knows Hinata is right. He can do better.

"I—" he starts to say, but Hinata cuts him off.

"You better not use our piece to warm up for your solo," he says, glaring.

Kageyama's mouth falls open. "Dumbass! I wouldn't do that!"

Hinata nods. "Good." He pins Kageyama with that stare, as if daring him to even try. As if Kageyama would ever dance with anything less than the intent to make Hinata impossible to look away from.

When it's Hinata's turn to take the stage for the dance battle, Kageyama notices he dances differently, too. But it's not lackluster—not the way Kageyama now feels about his performance, wonders if everyone else noticed, and was just being polite with their applause. Hinata dances with a fire even _he_ rarely shows, has the crowd on their feet—he improvises moves Kageyama's never even seen him do, like he's throwing every caution to the winds that night. Living for the thrill of it.

Even with the gnawing pit inside him, the understanding of this being the _last night,_ when that flame flickers its way to stand next to Kageyama on a darkened stage and casts him a challenging look, Kageyama feels the pit fill with heat, and anticipation.

"You ready?" Hinata whispers to him.

"You know I am," Kageyama replies, and in the dark, he sees the barest flash of an answering grin.

Hinata puts out his fist, and Kageyama knocks it with his own.

"Let's kill ‘em," Hinata says. Then the music starts.

When it ends, and the cheering starts (and doesn't stop, not for a long time), Kageyama looks at Hinata, to see he's already being watched. There's no trace of doubt now in Hinata's eyes, only a wild kind of triumph. They give the crowd one last wave before it's time to make way for the next group and Hinata slings an arm around Kageyama’s waist before they're halfway off stage.

 _"That,_ " he says, "was better than rehearsals."

Kageyama shoves him a little, asks, "What'd you expect?" but Hinata is still right, because he can always tell when Kageyama is at peak performance level. He's the first one to know if Kageyama didn't get enough sleep or is getting sick or sometimes even when he just ate something that isn't agreeing with him, which is weird, yes, but that's just how they are, with each other.

Just one more thing Kageyama will miss more than he can say when they're separated. He _will_ miss having someone who just knows him without trying, because so few people try. Everyone just wrote him off as a prodigy before Hinata. Hinata was the first one to try and pick at his shell, because Hinata was unable to accept that Kageyama was perfect. Hinata had never wanted him to be flawless, like everyone else did. When they first met, Kageyama thought it was jealousy—and it was, definitely—but now he knows it's something else, too.

Hinata had never thought it was fair.

In London, they'll all be prodigies, all flawless. Kageyama isn't sure he's ready to go back to that.

"Oy, Bakageyama," Hinata says. They're nearing the end, now, waiting for the current dancer to wrap up. The seniors’ solo pieces always close out the show. Hinata is second to last. Kageyama will be the closing act.

Kageyama grunts to show he's listening.

"You better watch closely, okay?" Hinata says, cricking his neck and stretching his arms. "No looking away when you realize how much better than you I am."

"If that's why you think I'll stop watching, then you don't need to worry about me missing anything," Kageyama says.

Instead of getting mad, Hinata laughs. "Okay, then."

As soon as the performance before his is over, Hinata hurries to take his place on the stage—all the months of rehearsal have paid off, as he finds his mark in almost total darkness, waiting.

And then it's lights up, and Kageyama hears his music, for the first time.

It's not hip-hop. It's not even contemporary. It's a much older song, all instrumental, classical—it's from a _ballet._

And Kageyama knows it instantly, not because of that fact, but because, years and years ago, this was the song he danced to for his very first recital at the conservatory. The first piece Hinata had seen him dance, ever.

Of course, there's no repetition in Hinata's choreography, no imitation. He makes it his own, breaks and isolations, limbs flowing one second, locking the next, precise but still free, to the sound of orchestral trumpets and the timpani and flute whistles, each the next beat for him to hold a pose. It's beautiful, the mix of artistry and style and skill.

But even though all the movements are Hinata's, Kageyama can still see the purposeful echoes, the little bits of himself, throughout the dance—purely classical elements Hinata has learned from watching and practicing with him, from Kageyama yelling at him to straighten his back, pick his knees up, lengthen his stride. Dance moves he's asked Kageyama to teach him over the years, all interwoven, mingling to create a style that Hinata owns, but that Kageyama helped mold.

Something of theirs, that Kageyama knows Hinata won't forget, or let go. He can't, not when it's this deep in his bones, his muscle memory, his mind.

Kageyama doesn't look away from him once, and it's not because Hinata isn't better—it's because Kageyama wants to commit being surpassed so spectacularly to memory.

Hinata finishes, but Kageyama barely hears the shouting, the applause. His own voice inside his head is too loud. _Look at me,_ he wants to yell, but Hinata doesn't, just disappears off stage right so Kageyama can enter left.

He only has a few moments to gather himself after that, and inwardly curses Hinata for how hard it feels to breathe. But he is a performer, first and foremost, and so by the time his music starts, he has centered.

He has something around which to center. He has a focal point. Not the growing dread, or the sadness, or the anxiety; not the worry that makes him force the thought of a foreign country from his mind, not the questions constantly spinning, _isn't this what I've always wanted, why can't I be happier, what will happen once I'm gone—_

Instead, that is quiet. He knows he has a friend who won't forget him, and all he hears is the music, and all he feels is glad.

His song is much softer than the one Hinata just danced to, more somber. Kageyama dances, feels himself pulling and being pulled through the movements—lighter than air, but each decisive action holds more weight than the gravity of Earth as he makes it, _this_ turn of his head, _that_ jump, and the way he carries himself. Everything exactly as he means it to be, and as he dances, he knows he is perfect, but not the kind of perfect that allows no cracks and seals itself up and keeps everyone else out.

He is flawless because he wills his dance into being, flawless because to him, it feels right. And he _loves_ it.

When he finishes, they throw flowers at his feet. More than he can carry, but he picks up one bouquet, bows again and again, before finally he has to leave the stage. Next the director of the conservatory will give a short speech, and then there will be awards presented, and then the curtain call. And then it will be over.

He sticks his nose into the flowers as soon as he's out of sight, breathing labored, suddenly _feeling_ everything.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be into the whole flower catching thing," he hears a voice say, and there's Hinata, waiting for him. "What if people want you to like, kiss their babies and stuff? Will you do it?"

Kageyama stares at him, nose still buried in fragrant buds. "Why would anyone want me to kiss their baby?"

Hinata rolls his eyes, grabbing Kageyama's arm to lead him farther from the curtain, where less of the other dancers are milling about. "It's just like, a thing that people—I don't know _why_ people do it, okay, they just do."

"Hinata," Kageyama says, stopping in place. His heart pounds. "Your song."

"What about it?" Hinata asks cheekily. "Were you surprised?"

Kageyama stares at him, swallows. He has to say something now, he has to, or he'll never do it. There won't be a point.

"You were amazing," he says, and even though his voice manages to snag and catch on three simple words, he knows Hinata hears them, by the way the shorter boy goes red in the face and looks away, blinking rapidly.

"Told you," he says, somehow petulant.

"You were amazing to _me,_ " Kageyama says. Will that be enough? To let Hinata know that it's not just the crowd who thought so, and it wasn't just his dancing. Hinata, as a person, amazes Kageyama. "I didn't—if I'd _known_ you were—"

"Shut up," Hinata says, still pink-faced, but he looks back to meet Kageyama's eyes. "That's not—I could tell how much _fun_ you were having, just now. You huge, dumb—" He stomps his foot and pulls something from behind his back that Kageyama hadn't even realized he'd been hiding. "Now someone already _gave_ you flowers, what the hell, this was supposed to be _special—_ "

He's holding a single, red rose, thrusts it up into Kageyama's face like it's committed a fault against him. Kageyama stares at it.

"Is… this for me?" he asks, dumbfounded.

"Yes, obviously!" Hinata says, voice edging into shrillness.

"Where did you find it?" Kageyama asks, and realizes his mistake only when Hinata's eyes nearly bug out of his head.

"I _bought it!"_ he hisses. "For _you,_ but _clearly_ I needn't have bothered since you have so many other, better, cooler flowers you could choose from—"

Kageyama folds the rose out of Hinata's shaking fingers and puts his nose in the silken petals, inhaling deeply. It smells, unquestionably, the best.

"If you go to England and forget about me," Hinata whispers, "I'll never forgive you, ever."

"I slept through most of my English classes because I thought maybe they wouldn't let me into the country," Kageyama confesses.

Hinata gives a watery, snotty snort. "You _idiot,_ " he says, "that's not how it works."

Kageyama pulls him forward by the front of his shirt, and Hinata wraps his arms around his neck, and it's not clear who kisses who, first, but Kageyama supposes maybe, just maybe, this one doesn't have to be a competition (he definitely kissed Hinata first). He feels monumentally stupid for ever thinking that Hinata might not kiss him back.

"At least," Hinata says breathlessly, when Kageyama finally thinks to let go of him for a half second, "I _think_ that's not how it works."

"Guess we'll find out," Kageyama says, mostly unconcerned.

There is a storm of clapping beyond the curtain, and they look at each other.

"Do you think we'll get awards?" Hinata asks. Obviously, they will.

"You'll probably get one because they're so happy you're finally leaving," Kageyama says, and Hinata punches him several times in the ribs, then squeezes his hand as they line up to go back out and take one final bow.

For that evening, that is. There will be many, many more bows taken, standing next to one another in the future.

The curtain is just beginning to rise.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hinata dances to: Erik Satie’s “[Les Aventures de Mercure](https://youtu.be/BvUb4DdCmRQ?t=249)” [4:09 to 7:20]
> 
> [I'm [@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]


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